


Khelshae of the Exodus

by okEmmOrWhatever



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okEmmOrWhatever/pseuds/okEmmOrWhatever
Summary: What if there were one who was older, older than the the Old Wars themselves?
Kudos: 2





	Khelshae of the Exodus

Khelshae of the Exodus

I remember the birth of Eldrad Ulthran. In fact, I lived only two lives prior to The Fall. ...what a horror that was... As such, I know the bliss of The Waiting, the time between lives where we would be the ethereal. I remember the feeling of that incorporeal state, of being one with the Aether, with my brethren, with the Universe in all its vast expanse. I remember it. And it aches to know the selfishness of my own have robbed so many of that knowledge. I have met young soldiers who think The Waiting a mere myth. 

  
Only two lives prior... As the Terrans say "thrice is charmed," I suppose. I'm sure you wonder how I have lived so long, survived so long. I was one who taught the young Eldrad. He was so very gifted, it was a delight to show him the intricacies of the Aether and whiteness the glory he would achieve through it. So, I am what is now called a far seer, I suppose. When this life was young, we were simply called wise. It wasn't even a title, we were just in-tuned with the ways of the Aether, with its movements and strands, and used our intuition accordingly. I have used this attunement and intuition to save my life uncountable times thus. When I can warn others of danger in order for them to be saved, I do so. But, sadly, too often I find myself in fear that I have been the only to escape unmaimed. 

  
I fled the home world on the first of the craft ships - I too quickly perceived what the hedonism of the cults would bring upon us and feared in a way I have never feared. Now, that fear has a name, Her name. I do not speak it. I no longer remember the name of the ship I left on. Such things are less important to me than the people or the memory of The Waiting. And that time is dominated in my mind by the fearing, by the feeling of the storms in the webway, by the gnawing grief of my dreams, nightmares. I have long since left the Crafts. The use of the gems... disturbed me. Made a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. I understand it, certainly. None want any more Aeldari souls lost to Her gnashing teeth. But I felt it could drag our people into corruption, the using of souls as tools. Storing them was one thing, keeping them safe from she-of-fear, but the Wraiths were a divergent path all together. I spoke my misgivings, and when they went unheeded, I left the Crafts. 

  
Since then, I have wandered. I find the safe places at the edges of the realms, small as they are, and stay as long as they remain safe. I bed not. Never have I had the desire, and thus the risk of... attachments is greatly reduced. It helps to not have lover or child to fear for when leaving a damned world. I will catch a sub-warp transport to a far off star system, or dissolve beyond to the Aether itself in order to phase across worlds. But this is tiring and cannot be done again for months, sometimes decades. And I cannot take any with me but my belongings on my back.

  
And when battle or defense is called for, I still have my power and skill from the old wars. I still have Sting and the tome. Unlikely as you would believe it, I think this lithe blade could slay humans' emperor himself, or at least his children. Though, I would hate to try. I am not one for risk.

  
My deity? Our maiden of healing: Isha. She is my foundation. My time with her is too intimate to speak of.

**Author's Note:**

> Daendole, mother-founder of the House of Indranel, Irilhyn, general-at-arms of the fourty-fifth regiment, twice honored, Khelshae of the Exodus.


End file.
